Falling into Black
by brynerose
Summary: Cathal O' Regan is young, headstrong, and now without a place to call home, unless you count his tin-can car. All he wants is some kind of upturn to his life. If that's where he's going-his thoughts leading up to his fateful introdution to heroin. TRIGGER WARNING: descriptions of drug use.


**A/N: Two things-one, I absolutely in NO WAY promote the inappropriate use of drugs, legal or otherwise. Any credible source will tell you that heroin especially is DANGEROUS. There is help for anyone in this situation. If there's anything this film has to day, it's that you will always matter to someone. Even if you don't think you do.**

**Two, I have not had the ability to see this film in its entirety. Until I can get a format I can view, all I have are the various snippets on YouTube. Any inaccuracies with the parent story are due to that limitation, so be lenient with me :) Thanks!**

* * *

_Falling into black  
Slipping through the cracks  
Falling to the depths, can I ever get back?  
Falling...inside the black..._

-Skillet, cop. 2006

* * *

Cathal promised himself he wouldn't cry. He wasn't a child anymore. So what if Mum was gone forever? So what if Da' didn't want him in the house anymore because of that? She had been sick for so long, it was almost a relief. Anyway, that was almost three weeks ago. He could take it. He would show his prick of a father he could live on his own. He didn't need anyone in the end.

But here he was, freezing. He didn't have enough petrol left to keep the car running all night for the heat. And the reality was, he didn't have anywhere to go. The pubs were all closing for the night; he had already been thrown out of one. His last few euros wouldn't cover a hostel room. Damn. So the treacherous sting of tears rose continually behind his eyes. Screw his Da'! Screw the whole world!

Flashes of orange appeared between the dark buildings as Cathal drove. Some kind of bonfire. A few cars were silhouetted by the flames, so he pulled up. He knew hobos were a shady bunch, but right now staying warm was the only thing on his mind.

A guy with a cigarette stepped in his way almost immediately. "An' who's this?"

"Just lookin' for a bit 'o heat. It's a cold night," muttered Cathal.

"There's room enough," called another voice. Only six or eight people were gathered around the fire. One of them stepped forward, evidently the ringleader. "As long as he's got somethin' to share, that is."

Cathal shifted his feet uneasily. "Well, I got a couple joints left…"

"That'll do fine!" declared the ringleader, throwing an arm around Cathal's shoulders. They retrieved the bag from his car, lit a joint, and started passing it around. In turn, someone produced a bottle of whiskey, which Cathal gratefully took when offered.

"Name's Donnegan. What's yours?" the ringleader continued once they'd more or less settled in.

"Cathal."

"And what brings you out here on this fine night?"

"Me Da' tossed me out. Been workin' up to it a long time. I guess me mum dyin' gave him an excuse."

Cigarette Guy flicked his butt away, snorting. "We all got our sob stories, boyo." He shut up when Donnegan kicked at him.

"Aye, we all do. That's why we stick together. Us against the world, eh?"

Now it was Cathal's turn to chuckle. "I appreciate your hospitality, but I can take care of meself."

"As you should. We all come an' go at times." Donnegan pulled out a little white pouch to mix into another joint. "But it eases the nights to have someone around 'sides yourself, donnit?"

He couldn't argue with that. It certainly helped tonight. In the hatch of the next car over, two of the others were getting cozy under a blanket. The girl teased with the zipper of her jacket. Cathal sure wouldn't mind such a treat right about now..

Donnegan took a long drag on the cocktail joint. "Ahh, nothin' like a real break from straight reality. You want some?"

Why not? Between the cannabis and whiskey, Cathal felt up for anything. Actually, he'd tried something like it once before, from a butt left in the ashtray by one of Da's friends. Never had a beat down so bad. The mate who rolled it nearly got shot for his troubles. Well Da' wasn't here now. He wasn't the boss anymore. Cathal took a short puff.

Immediately his head buzzed with the light high. The cold ache in his hands and feet faded. In fact, all pain, even over Mum's death melted into oblivion. Cathal felt _great_ for the first time in years. Donnegan, who was watching his reaction, smiled broadly.

"Does the trick, donnit?"

"Yeah…" sighed Cathal. Already the effects diminished a little, however. He should have taken more before giving the joint back. "I've needed somethin' like this for a loooong time. Bit flimsy, though. Any way to make it stronger?"

"I got just the thing." Donnegan fished in his pocket again, carefully this time. When his hand reemerged, it held two slim, glinting tubes between their faces. Cathal felt a twinge of warning in the back of his head, but the lingering sweet haze pushed it away. He reached for a syringe. Donnegan pulled back for a moment.

"You gotta be careful with this. I seen plenty 'a blokes stopped breathin' 'cause they didn't watch how much they took. Can also get you real sick if it pokes you where it's not supposed to. Lemme show you how to do it, first. Which hand d'you write with?"

Cathal motioned his right hand. So Donnegan pushed up the sleeve of his left, syringes carefully balanced in his teeth. "I'sh trickier to find a goo' fein when i'sh cold," he explained around the glass tubes. He tapped his fingers against Cathal's thin elbow until they could see the little blue stripe. Then he pulled the cap off one syringe. Cathal's heart started pounding in his chest. Donnegan must have felt his tension, because he stopped. "You sure you wanna do this?"

Did he? Could he just back down now and not look like a gutless idiot? _Stupid boy,_ Da's voice rang in his head. _Don't know what I did wrong. Can't show a spine worth shite, won't amount to anything at this rate…_

"Yeah, anything for a break from reality, right?" he replied jerkily.

Donnegan smiled again. "Right." With that, he slid the needle in. Cathal tried not to jump from the sharp pain. But none of that mattered when his new friend pressed the plunger.

It was absolute bliss compared to the hit from the joint. He didn't register the syringe being withdrawn, or the few drops of blood that followed it. He barely retained the sensation of the car hood on which he sat. No cold, no stiffness, no stinging words from his father, no aching hole left by his mother. No…anything. It was pure heaven. Cathal could stand to live like this the rest of his life, if he could help it. After a long moment he opened his eyes—when did he close them?—to see Donnegan taking the second dose for himself. An expression of euphoria washed over the scruffy man's face, which morphed into curious shapes in the firelight. _Cool…_

"C'mon, let's get outta the wind for a bit." Still grinning like loons, the two of them stumbled to the doors of Cathal's car. Donnegan knocked his head on the way in, which just sent Cathal laughing. This was the best feeling on earth. He scratched his nose; there was a sticky spot on it. A glimpse of red-tinged fingers vaguely told him why. He must have smeared blood when he pulled his sleeve down. Not that he really cared at the moment. Nothing could bother him in this glorious new world.

"Too bad it doesn't last more than a few hours, even like this," slurred Donnegan. "Almost out, too…"

That jarred Cathal a bit. He should have seen this coming. To have to give up this feeling? "You can get more, though, right?"

"Oh, sure. 'S not hard. Worry 'bout it tomorrow…enjoy the ride now…"

It was so easy to agree. Despite the lurking anxiety of it all coming to an end, Cathal leaned his seat back and let himself go to the as-yet delicious warmth coursing under his skin. It was better than anything he'd ever tried before, and that included Mum's pain meds after a drunk friend had clipped him with his car.

_Forget about all that, it's in the past…this is now…_


End file.
